While I was chanting a curse, the system said I was Xiao Yan?

Shen Er looked down at him, the smile still on her lips, but there was no warmth in her eyes.

"Two-day first-class?"

His voice was low and hoarse: "Quite famous."

"But it didn't work."

He twisted his hand hard.

"Click."

The sound of bones breaking echoed through the alley, crisp and piercing.

Then he reached out with his other hand and took the knife from his hand.

It's as easy as picking up a water glass!

The grandson's eyes widened in surprise.

He can now be said to be the reincarnation of "Miyamoto Musashi". He knows better than anyone what it means that a top swordsman's hand was so easily severed and his sword taken away!

Shen Er held the knife, glanced down at it, and looked at it as if it were an ordinary tool.

"No!"

The grandson uttered a sound that wasn't his own, a sound filled with anger, resentment, and fear.

But his fear did not last long.

With a flick of his wrist.

A flash of light appeared in the alley!

The speed was not fast, the angle was not tricky, and it could even be described as an ordinary cut, but the trajectory of that cut was as precise as a straight line drawn on paper with a ruler, without a single extra curve.

The grandson's body stiffened.

On the side of his neck, a thin line of blood slowly appeared. The line was so thin that it was almost invisible, but the color became darker and wider.

Oogami's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't say anything.

His body went limp, like a sack of grain being dumped, falling silently onto the alleyway floor.

Blood seeped from the side of his neck and slowly spread on the concrete floor.

The witch opened and closed her mouth, her eyes widened, her pupils contracted to the size of pinpoints, and her expression changed from smugness to shock, from shock to bewilderment, and from bewilderment to despair.

Her lips were trembling, and a sound like air leaking out came from her throat.

"Wait, wait a minute! I can..."

He didn't even look at her.

He looked down at the short knife in his hand; the blade was stained with blood and gleamed with a dark red luster in the dim light.

His expression remained unchanged. With a casual flick of his wrist, the blood droplets on the knife fell to the ground, making a soft "splatter" sound.

Then, he raised his hand.

He flipped the knife in his hand, the tip pointing forward, the blade horizontal, like a thrown javelin.

With a quick pull of his arm back and a flick of his wrist, the knife flew out of his hand.

The knife trailed an almost invisible arc in the air.

The witch's throat was pierced; the knife entered her neck from the front, exited from the back, and was embedded in the wall behind her. The blade was buried in the brickwork, leaving only the hilt sticking out, trembling slightly.

The old woman swayed, clutching her neck with both hands, dark red blood gushing from between her fingers. Her mouth opened and closed, emitting indistinct sounds like drowning.

Her eyes were still open, but her gaze was unfocused, her pupils were dilated and out of focus.

Then she died.

Blood seeped from beneath their bodies, pooling into a small puddle that glowed a dark red in the dim alley.

Shen Er stood in the alley, his hands back in his pockets, the bloodstains on his flip-flops glistening faintly in the morning light.

The alleyway fell silent again.

Shen Er stood between the two corpses, hands in his pockets, glanced down at the few drops of blood splattered on his slippers, and frowned.

"Tsk, I need to take a shower when I get back."

He looked up at the gold and white building at the end of the alley, and the smile on his lips widened.

"Alright, let's get down to business."

He stepped over the corpses on the ground and walked towards the Panxing Sect. The clattering sound of his slippers echoed in the alley, unhurried and unhurried, just like when he came.

......

When Shen Er entered the Panxing Sect, it was very lively inside.

It wasn't the kind of lively religious ceremony, but rather the kind of lively market-like atmosphere.

"Blasphemy! This is blasphemy against Lord Tengen!"

"Get out! The Panxing Cult doesn't welcome you!"

"Lord Tengen will punish you!"

He followed the sound through the corridor, turned a corner, and suddenly the view opened up before him.

It was a high-ceilinged hall, at least half the size of a basketball court, with light-colored marble flooring and a huge crystal chandelier overhead, each crystal reflecting a dazzling light under the incandescent bulb.

The hall was packed with people.

Men and women, young and old, all dressed in the same white clothes, their faces bearing varying degrees of anger and fanaticism.

Some were shouting and cursing, some were talking in hushed tones while hesitating, some were praying with their hands clasped together, and some were clenching their fists and trembling with anger.

And in the direction the crowd was facing, there was one person.

His entire body was covered in bone armor, from his fingertips to his shoulders, from his ankles to his neck, with layers upon layers of scales that gleamed with a cold, hard luster in the dim light.

The facial bones extended and deformed, transforming into a Yaksha mask, with two sharp horns piercing from the forehead and pointing towards the sky.

Behind it, a pair of purple-gold bone wings unfolded, with a wingspan of more than three meters. The membrane was a semi-transparent magical energy, with purple-gold patterns flowing on it, shining brightly under the light of the chandelier.

He stood on a wooden platform in the center of the hall, with the emblem of the Panxing Sect behind him—a golden ring with the words "Tianyuan" written in the center.

Shen Er leaned against the door frame, hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side, flip-flops patting lightly on the ground.

He looked at the guy on the podium, and the corners of his mouth slowly curved up.

"This kid..."

He said to himself, his tone carrying a knowing "I knew it" tone.

From the very beginning, he suspected that the 100 million bounty was issued by Tianyan.

The reason is simple.

The timing of the bounty on the Star Cult was too perfect. It happened right after the Starmash mission began, right after the Q organization was wiped out, and right when everyone's attention was focused on protecting the Starmash.

The bounty amount is too coincidental, one hundred million, which is quite a lot, much more than the bounty for assassinating the Starmash. If he were in the same position, he would have done the same.

Use a sum of money to divert the attention of the Panxing Cult, or at least create a psychological choice for those curse masters who want to assassinate the Starmash Body: "Killing the Starmash Body costs 30 million, but the risk is high; destroying the Panxing Cult costs 100 million, but the risk is low."

Who among those who live on the edge of a knife would take more risks?

Moreover, even if no one accepts the bounty, it still serves its purpose, causing trouble for the Panxing Cult and diverting their energy from "hunting down the star magma" to "self-preservation."

Now, seeing Tianyan standing in the hall of the Panxing Sect, wearing that strange-looking bone armor, he became even more certain of his guess.

This kid used to be a lot like me.

It's not about personality or methods, but about mindset: unconventional thinking, disregard for rules, and only concerned with results.

Having figured this out, Shen'er leaned back more comfortably, crossed her arms, and her smile widened.

He didn't go in; he just leaned against the doorframe, watching everything that was happening in the hall as if he were watching a good show.